The Settlement
by DistressedMoonchild
Summary: Sequel to The Arrangement. Living together can be very hard...


TITLE: The Settlement

AUTHOR: Moonchild

RATING: PG-13

PAIRING: HP/DM

GENRE: General

SUMMARY: Sequel to The Arrangement. Living together can be very hard...

WARNINGS: slash, mpreg

DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

ARCHIVING: please ask

FEEDBACK: welcomed and appreciated

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The Settlement 

Harry was sure that he was going to come home late. Again. And he already knew how pathetic his explanation would sound to the impatient person who was waiting for him at home. Just as pathetic as Harry's habit to consider each place he spent a couple of nights at a "home". This was what? Their sixth or seventh "home" since graduation? A spacious apartment in one of prestigious districts of London. Harry wished they would for once try a quieter, more secluded location. Not that anyone asked for his opinion.

The apartment was not that bad, in fact. The view from the windows, a breath-taking panorama of at least half of the city, was spectacular, especially at night.

Harry already got used to living there. But it was almost two months since they moved in, and Harry suspected that it was time to begin packing. He has been noticing brochures from real estate agencies lying around, and hearing complaints about noise from the outside, insufficiency of sunlight in the morning, thin walls etc. etc. A sure sign that a change of scenery would follow very soon.

Harry did not mind these moves, not really. He expressed his displeasure from time to time with indignant grumbling, but none of those places was worth causing a scene. Harry once heard that a cat grows attached to the house, and a dog grows attached to the person. If this was true, Harry was definitely a dog. The only thing that mattered to him was being close to people he cared about. The place of habitation was unimportant.

It was fun in the beginning to search for something new, pack and unpack, argue about color of wallpaper, meet new neighbors, search for places of interest around. But lately he began to notice that this never-ending change of residences was grating on his nerves. He needed something permanent. Maybe he was turning into a cat?

Harry shook his head. He really should stop drinking so much coffee at work. Redundancy of caffeine in his organism resulted in wild and quite confusing thoughts that often frightened even himself. Harry glanced at his watch. No good, he was already late. He quickened his steps.

One serious disadvantage of the apartment they lived in was that street it was located at was always crowded with people. Thus Harry could not apparate there. And the security wards around the building didn't allow him to apparate right into the apartment.

So here he was, running along a dark street because he was late for the bus. It was raining all day long, and now evening chill coated wet pavement with ice. Harry already slipped and landed on his ass twice. He was sure it would hurt to sit for a week or two.

Harry found himself wishing more than once that the Laboratories were located closer to the centre of London.

Home. Finally. Harry ran upstairs deciding not to wait for the lift. Hoping against all logic that his tardiness would pass unnoticed if he did not produce too much noise, he opened the door with keys instead of using the doorbell. Once inside, he slid out of his raincoat and attempted to tiptoe into the bathroom.

Vain hope. A cold voice stopped him when he was about to pass the door leading into bedroom.

"Really, Harry. One would think you are hiding from me."

Harry slowly turned to face the owner of the voice with a nervous smile.

"Sorry, I thought you might be asleep. Didn't want to wake you up…"

The words he was going to say next froze on his lips when he noticed the appearance of the person approaching him. Hair arranged, figure draped in dark blue velvet robes, almost a regal look… Was Draco going somewhere? Without Harry?

Grey eyes looked at him coldly, but Harry could see hidden fury. Draco Malfoy was very, very angry with him.

"What is it this time?"

"Oh Draco, I am so sorry. I tried to finish earlier, I really tried, but…"

"Don't bother."

"What?" Harry asked, surprised.

"I said, don't bother. I have no desire to listen to your excuses," Draco's words cut exactly like glass. "I had enough of this. I was putting an effort to make this relationship work, but I cannot do this on my own. From the very beginning, you were giving me nothing but incessant whining and complaints. It is obvious that you don't want to spend time either with me, or with my family. I did everything. We moved since you were feeling uncomfortable at the Manor, I put up with your mood swings, I allowed you to find a job, which in fact became your hiding place. And what do I get in return? You come home late, you ignore my father's invitations, you avoid my friends, you are even ignoring me!"

Harry blinked. He did not expect it. He knew that Draco was unhappy with him, but half of these accusations was unfair. He was allowed to find a job? His mood swings? And wasn't Draco the one who called country "boring"?

"I've been thinking about our situation for a while," Draco mercilessly went on. "And came to a decision. We already learned to control our energy, so there is no need now for us to spend every moment together. I researched the contract, it seems that its terms are fulfilled – we got married. There was not anything about spending the whole life together. Maybe our magical abilities harmonize, but our personalities most certainly do not.

"I am leaving. There is nothing else I can do. Maybe you just need time to grow up. Or this is the end." He shrugged. "You can stay here or move out. I will get my things later. Enjoy your evening alone, Harry."

Before Harry managed to utter a sound, the young man who had been his husband for the last two and a half year disappeared with a pop sound, thus effectively ruining the wards placed so carefully by Harry.

Harry was stunned. That was it? His mouth was open, his head full of possible retorts to Draco's accusations, but there was no one to express his protests to now.

From his past experience, Harry already knew that it would be useless to argue because Draco always ended up being right. Harry could never find right objections in time. Surely, he would come up with justifications of his position eventually, but it was always too late and discussion was already closed.

This time he was deprived even of the right to attempt proving his point. It was unfair! How could Draco leave him like that?! Wait. Leave him? It seemed impossible. He came home late and that was enough of reason for Draco to abandon him?

Draco Malfoy was even-tempered and calm; he was not the kind of person to blow up because of a mere trifle. He would give Harry a lecture about his irresponsibility and bad upbringing, he would pout and ignore Harry for several hours. Then Harry would apologize, and they would be all right again.

Maybe that was expected of him? Was he supposed to follow after Draco and give him an apology? But how can one follow someone who apparated to god knows where?

It was serious then, Draco clearly stated that he was not coming back for a while. How long would it take him to forgive Harry was impossible to guess. A day? A week, maybe? The thought that Harry would stay alone for a month or two was dreadful.

What if Draco decided not to come back at all? He said something about the contract, that they were not under its power anymore. So he was thinking about leaving before. He really wanted to go and be free of Harry.

Harry felt that his insides went numb when realization struck. He was left for real. Draco wasn't coming back.

Harry was not sure how long he was standing there, rooted to the spot, raindrops sliding down to the parquet from his coat. It was not happening. No. Definitely not. It could not come to that.

Surely this relationship had its ups and downs, making Harry wonder sometimes if their endless arguments meant that they were unsuitable for each other. Well, of course, they were! Harry knew that from the beginning. Unfortunately a divorce was out of question, as well as a temporary split-up. Whenever one of them was upset with another, it resulted in significant material losses. The objects of their household that suffered most were dishes (plenty of conflicts were born at the kitchen where Harry's opinion that everything considered edible could be consumed as a meal was questioned), books (Draco did not approve of Harry's "impersonation of Granger every damned evening" as he put it) and clothes (Harry fiercely resisted all Draco's attempts to renew his wardrobe).

Not that they did not have good moments… even hours… maybe days. No, not days. Harry and Draco could not co-exist peacefully for an entire day even if the fate of the world depended on it. But Harry had to admit that his life with Draco was not absolutely intolerable, as one would expect. There were times of perfect understanding between them, of comfortable silence, of talking for hours without a single insult, of doing things together, of sex… Harry remembered his surprise at discovering that the words about complimenting each other and enhancing their magic abilities were true.

They practiced their magic regularly and results were amazing, it seemed that their powers were constantly growing. After one very good night, when they both were unwilling to rise but desperately needed to clean themselves, Harry reached with his hand and somehow managed to summon a wet towel from the bathroom. Just like that – not leaving the bed, without a wand, no incantation said – he turned on water, wetted a towel and brought it to the bed. Of course, Draco spoilt his excitement almost immediately with a remark that it was quite a simple act every average wizard would be able to perform. Although he refused to demonstrate it to Harry. Typical.

The beginning, back at Malfoy Manor, was not very smooth. In the course of first few days of their living together Draco's patience and tact helped Harry to get used to his new life, but after about one week the Malfoy heir returned to his normal attitude, apparently deciding that Harry's adaptation period was over.

After the first night with Draco, he did his best not to leave the room, but all attempts of the shy Gryffindor to spend as much time in the bedroom as possible in order to avoid communication with any residents of the Manor aside from Draco, were ruthlessly suppressed. No, Harold was to join the family for breakfast, to go with Madam ("call me Narcissa, darling") shopping "to refresh his wardrobe", to play chess with Mr Malfoy, to participate in all regular family gatherings, to attend business meetings...

The bedroom became Harry's sanctuary, where he would seek refuge in the evening, only to be plucked out by Draco "to take a walk in the park". Evidently fresh air had stimulating effect on young Malfoy, as after the walk Harry returned to the Manor in quite a disheveled state, only to be dragged into the bedroom for a sequel. Not that it ever took Draco Malfoy long to overcome Harry's initial resistance. His invitations for a walk were never rejected.

Harry did not expect that he would find sex with Draco Malfoy so enjoyable. True, at first he still needed this lust potion, until one time when he drank something tasting like the potion he asked for, and after quite a dynamic night, was informed that what Draco had given him was a fake. Well, a week later the Malfoy brat admitted that the potion had been real, and he had just lied in order to persuade Harry to stop taking it. Harry was really tempted to strangle him back then, but the harm was done: he realized that he did not need the potion anymore to allow Draco to touch him.

Harry smiled at the memory. Yes, their life was not something one could call boring. Exhausting, but never boring.

It seemed unbelievable that this crazy, chaotic and yet wonderful adventure had come to an end, although all evidence pointed to that. And the most sad part was that Harry did not count on it. He was absolutely not ready to move on. He had no place to move on to, to begin with.

Where would he go? To the Weasleys? Harry had some serious doubts about that. Even though he maintained some resemblance of friendship with Ron, the family never quite forgave him for "siding up" with Malfoys. Certainly there were no straightforward accusations. Yet Harry could not help but notice sudden coldness that appeared in their attitude towards him. Invitations to the Burrow became more and more infrequent with time until ceasing completely. Maybe coolness was two-sided, as he eventually began to avoid the Weasley family.

It was too awkward to listen to Arthur Weasley speaking about corruption in the Ministry of Magic, every now and then pausing to cast a sidelong glance on Harry; to chat with Ron who would happily rant about school and then suddenly shut up reaching a "slippery" subject, like Malfoy or Slytherins in general; to sit near tightlipped Ginny who seemed to be really enjoying the role of an abandoned bride; to imitate absolute delight devouring Molly Weasley's cooking, when she made yet another attempt to compete with dinners at Malfoy Manor (not that she ever tasted the dishes she was trying to excel).

Perhaps Harry would appreciate their efforts to make him feel comfortable, if the result did not turn out the exact opposite. Gradually their communication reduced to exchange of cards with formal best wishes on holidays. And if he even dared to appear now at the Burrow's doorstep, he would condemn himself to compassionate hugs and curses in Malfoys' address. Harry doubted he could take it right now.

Hermione… he probably could go to Hermione. If he knew where to find her, that is. She spent most of her time in various research expeditions. Last letter he received from her was sent from the Far East, a nine pages description of local plantations of some special moss that was apparently interweaved into flying carpets. Hermione was summoned there to solve the problem of camels consuming the most part of the precious plant before it could be gathered. Harry fell asleep on the third page, in the middle of a detailed explanation why traditional repelling charms could not be used, as most of spells did not work near the growing moss.

Sometimes Harry wondered if alienation of once inseparable friends was his fault. It all began when Draco and he returned to Hogwarts for their sixth year.

Harry dreaded return to Hogwarts after an eventful summer, and he was right. They arrived late because Draco "needed to change" – Harry had no doubt it was done on purpose – and entered the Great Hall after the Sorting Ceremony, when everyone was already seated, for all their schoolmates to witness their entry, mouths agape at the sight. Harry expected that Draco would take him to the Slytherin table, and would even welcome this choice since the very thought of his housemates' reaction made him cringe in horror. Instead, to his mortification he discovered that he was led straight to the Gryffindor table.

Showing no signs of embarrassment or nervousness, Draco approached his friends, amiably greeted them and asked Ron to move a little, so that he could sit near Harry. The degree of Ron's shock became evident to Harry when he saw his friend wordlessly complying with the request. Harry could hear whispering from neighboring tables, but the one he sat at was wrapped in dead silence. All the way through the meal Harry had a feeling that he was surrounded by mutes.

He was glad now that he had found courage to warn Ron and Hermione during summer about his life tragedy, and they even had sent him their regrets and consolations. Harry had been entertaining himself with an idea of going to visit Weasleys and "meeting Draco when it was time to go back to Hogwarts", or at least inviting them to Malfoy Manor, but his hopes had been vain. Lucius Malfoy plainly refused to receive any witch of questionable origin or some Weasley spawn in his house, claiming that it would be an insult to his ancestors. And one look at Draco told Harry everything he needed to know about the possibility of getting away from him even for a day.

So here he was, sitting near his friends and feeling their compassionate glances on him, yet not findings words to address them. His mind was in turmoil since the fateful meeting in Dumbledore's office. He could not declare that he hated Draco since they were bound for the rest of their lives, and Harry was getting used to the other boy. He even enjoyed his company… sometimes. So what was he supposed to say to his friends? Complain about unfairness of his situation? Pretend that he was happy? Or admit that it was not really as bad as he had expected?

The awkwardness grew when, right after the dinner, Professor McGonagall approached them and informed in a dry tone that due to unusual circumstances it was decided to grant Mr Malfoy's request about providing the newly-weds (at that moment the whole table gasped in shock) with a dorm of their own.

It was so typical for Lucius Malfoy to arrange everything for his son's comfort without considering anybody else's feelings, Harry thought bitterly on the way to their dorm, which of course had to be located in the Slytherin dungeons. But the man definitely achieved the purpose of keeping his son happy. Draco looked very satisfied and pleased with himself. When Harry asked weren't they alienating themselves from other students and suggested refusing this new sleeping arrangement, Draco replied that there was no way he would lead a married life in front of their schoolmates. Besides, he added in a sweet voice, would not Harry be embarrassed if his fellow Gryffindors knew how many orgasms he had? Harry never displayed exhibitionistic tendencies before… That shut Harry up.

Soon Harry discovered that Gryffindors' stubbornness to accept anything new was hard to overcome. Whenever he found himself in the company of his housemates (a situation that occurred rarer and rarer), he would feel their compassionate glances, hear sad sighs and sympathizing remarks, as if he was a victim of incurable decease and they all were sorry about the loss of their comrade. It was very irritating, and in a short time Harry began spending more and more time in the Slytherin common room. Maybe they were not as friendly, but at least they did not look at him with tears in their eyes.

Lessons proceeded in their normal course, except for the fact that Harry was now to sit with Draco Malfoy whenever their schedules coincided. Draco mentioned the possibility of adjusting their curriculums so that they would take lessons together, but Harry managed to assert this last fortification. However, the persistent Slytherin still sprang out beside him during every break.

Snape's reaction to them as a couple once more proved to Harry that his Potions Master was the most evil teacher in the entire history of Hogwarts' existence. Since Harry first stepped into the classroom in his new capacity, Snape seemed to be taking particular pleasure in talking to Harry. In a silky voice, he would address Harry as Mr Malfoy (all Harry's attempts to correct him and explain that it was Potter-Malfoy were futile) and say something like: "I am very glad that you decided to settle down, Mr Po- Mr Malfoy, although to think that your partner's skills will finally rub off on you would be too much to hope, I guess". Or "Draco, please try to help your partner to concentrate on my lessons. I am putting my faith in your patience, since all my teaching abilities were not enough". Oh yes, Harry hated Snape very much. And even though for the rest two school years Harry was partnered with Draco, he still ended with points taken from Gryffindor every class, whereas Draco received highest marks and praises for each test or potion they had to make.

Harry himself found it hard to believe that after graduation he had voluntarily agreed to work side by side with Snape. But there it was. Several months of idleness occasionally interrupted with spell practicing with his husband, made Harry feel bored and restless. They moved to London (upon Draco's insistence! Harry had no problem with staying at Malfoy Manor after the initial sense of trepidation was overcome, and he got used to spending school vacations there) immediately after graduation.

Somehow lazy float that seemed natural at the Manor was irritating in London. He had either to accompany Draco to the endless parties with his aristocratic friends, or to sit in a large empty apartment pretending that he was studying. When he applied for the job in the Laboratories of Alternative Magical Resources, having accidentally found out about the existence of this organization and the vacant position, it was a rash, impetuous decision. But Harry never regretted it, not even when he received an unpleasant surprise that in order to apply he had to address the Supreme Director of the Laboratories, Professor Snape at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The biggest surprise of all was that the Supreme Director approved his candidature.

Very soon Harry found out that Snape indeed led quite an active professional life outside the walls of Hogwarts. He appeared regularly in the Laboratories, discussed current projects, gave advices, conducted the most complicated experiments and never acknowledged Harry Potter's presence, a type of behavior that suited both parties. Harry's work in the Laboratories, as others', consisted of approbating new or long-forgotten spells and potion recipes. It was exhausting, complicated, dangerous at times, as the staff mostly had to test their work on themselves, but hardly boring.

The results were regularly reported to the International Confederation of Wizards that sponsored the organization's work. In its turn, the Confederation drew conclusions and sent out recommendations about use or prohibition of this or that magical tool to the Ministries of Magic of all countries of the world.

And this latest project that Harry was working on… Oh, how he wanted to tell Draco about it. The idea that had seemed insane in the beginning enchanted Harry more and more, until he finally volunteered to approbate it. It was a complex combination of spells and a potion, none of which would work separately. A group of five experts, including two mediwizards and Snape himself, was involved. There was not anything Harry wished more than to share this with Draco, but he could not. The fear that it would not work stopped him every time. And also that Draco's reaction would not be as enthusiastic as Harry anticipated. Now Draco was gone, and Harry had not told him. The most awful thing was that there was not much point in this project for Harry if Draco Malfoy was not around…

One does not die when one's lover leaves. That was the conclusion Harry came to by the morning. There were few moments during this long, long night when he doubted that. At some point the air became so constricting that he opened all the windows in the bedroom. This was the last thing he did before curling on the bed. It was late autumn, and the wind almost immediately brought the room temperature down several degrees, but Harry did not notice.

Now stripes of sunlight evenly lay across the bed, and he was still alive. Very odd. He cautiously opened one eye and looked around the room. Yes, nothing changed. He could just pretend that Draco was in the bathroom or went for a walk. A glitter on the bedside table caught his eye. He reached with one hand and took the sparkling object. It was an invitation card, covered in silver dust, with black letters glistening on it. His mind registered detached words from the text: Lucius Malfoy… birthday… reception… pleasure of seeing… Draco Malfoy and his partner…

Oh no. Nonono. That was why Draco was in full dress. Harry had no doubt that he received 5-10 reminders about the forthcoming event from Draco during the past weeks. And he forgot. No wonder Draco was so angry; this was not just some party, but his father's birthday, no less. His husband would not forgive him. Ever. The card slipped from the suddenly weak fingers to the floor.

His insides felt numb, and he was afraid to move, because the slightest motion would bring out the pain. It felt as if every damned cell of his body was hurting, and Harry was sure it had something to do with Draco. Maybe Draco hexed him before leaving? Or he was wrong about the contract, and now they were both hurting?

Harry's eyes opened wide when a picture of Draco lying on the ground, writhing in pain appeared in his mind. But it was just his imagination at work. Of course, Draco was not suffering. He probably was quite happy that he finally got rid of his burden. Right now he was enjoying a free life.

And Harry should be doing the same. They were bound together against their wills; why not enjoy freedom they received at last? It was courageous and wise for Draco to make the first step away.

The thought that was meant to be encouraging somehow had a bitter taste and upset him even more. He did not want to be strong and able to walk away. He wanted Draco back… With that thought repeatedly playing in his mind like an everlasting song, Harry sank into uneasy, troubled sleep.

*****

She walked out from the lift fumbling for the key in her purse with left hand. Then she remembered that it was in the pocket of her raincoat. She found this forgetfulness quite disconcerting. True, she was caught unawares with Draco's call, but she should still remain concentrated and self-disciplined.

And self-discipline also meant that she was not to rush to Draco Malfoy's side at the first summons, she reminded herself. So much for her determination…

Pansy Parkinson spent most of the time at Hogwarts following him around. Even her friends thought that she dreamt of marrying Draco Malfoy. She did nothing to dissuade them. She did not bother explaining that she only needed this position of his loyal companion for her parents.

Her father was a talented yet unemployed mediwizard. His reputation suffered immensely after the horrible accident when skin of one of his patients turned orange. Permanently. It was the fault of his assistant who messed up the sickness-relieving potion, but her father was blamed as the one in charge. Unfortunately the patient happened to be an influential American lawyer whose career according to his statement in the court was ruined because of Roderick Parkinson's mistake. When the trial was finished, the Parkinson family was almost bankrupt. Draco Malfoy in her year was a blessing. How else would her father get a new job if not through Lucius Malfoy's recommendation?

It had taken her no less than six years to achieve the desired result but it was worth it. By the time when the scandalous union of Potter and Malfoy shook the school, Draco and Pansy were all but officially engaged in the eyes of public. It was obvious that Malfoys were supposed to console the broken-hearted bride. And what was the best consolation if not providing for her well-being?

Pansy shed some tears, nevertheless, so that Draco's pride would not be too hurt with her indifference to the fiancé's betrayal. When all decencies were observed, they remained friends. But old habits died hard, and Draco surely developed a habit of expecting her help in difficult situations… and she had a habit of coming to the rescue. This time she really, really did not want to get involved. Pansy never liked Potter, and what Draco was seeing in him was beyond her reach. Apparently he did see something, as his eyes would light up whenever he mentioned the Gryffindor moron.

Pansy almost scowled but stopped herself in time remembering suddenly about the danger of early wrinkles. And what did Draco think, sending her to fetch his garments? "Pansy, darling, I am simply trying to avoid unnecessary shouts and tears. And you know, I need more decent cloths than these rags. You cannot expect me to walk around in these!"

And her Faithful Pansy Reflex kicked in again. Sure, Draco, I understand. I will go there and pick your things. Never mind that I hate Potter's guts and could care less about what you are going to wear. Oh, Pansy saw right through this façade. She knew perfectly that all it would take Draco to renew his wardrobe would be a fifteen minutes' trip to a shop. All right, maybe not fifteen minutes. It never took Draco Malfoy less than two hours to pick up "something decent to wear". But what really stood behind this request was the desire to find out if Potter was wallowing in remorse over letting Draco go. Otherwise, how could Draco return home if he was not begged for it? That is why she refused at first. She had no desire to wipe Potter's snot. Only after Malfoy gave her his word that at this time of day Potter was always at work and there was no chance for her of finding him in the apartment, she agreed. She would not allow herself to be so easily persuaded if she did not have a soft spot for Draco. He was almost her fiancé for seven years. She just could not stop being his friend right away. Still absorbed in righteous rant, Pansy entered the apartment. And gasped as a wave of cold enveloped her. It was relatively warm in the entrance hall and in the lift, so this low temperature was a shock. Why was it so cold here? Maybe a hex left by furious Draco? Quite possible, years did not do much to improve vindictive nature of the young Slytherin.

Wide-open windows in the bedroom answered her unspoken question. But who, in their right minds, would ventilate an apartment in such a cold? There were already snowflakes on the floor, for Merlin's sake!

Shivering, Pansy hurried to the windows and slammed them shut. Only then she looked around. The whole apartment was in black and white spectrum, full of strange, apparently Muggle, devices and modern angular furniture. How typical for Draco to surround himself with Muggle objects, half of which he surely would not know how to use at all. And this awful design… it reminded her of the picture of some modern Muggle art museum she had seen once. Pansy cringed her nose in disgust. Draco Malfoy was always one for experimenting. Her gaze slowly slid around the room, passed the bed and returned there a second later. There was someone on the bed! Potter?! Pansy was suddenly very glad that Draco was not around. She would surely kill him for that one. He swore that his other half would not be at home! That little lying bastard… Of course, that was what he counted on all along. Pansy was supposed to check if Potter was having a nervous breakdown over loss of his precious Draco already or not.

She stood frozen for a couple of minutes, mustering up her courage. Finally she straightened her shoulders and took a deep breath. After all, she was a Slytherin once, right? So what if the stupid moron overslept? She would simply wake him up and tell him that she came to take Draco's things. Maybe he would even help her to pack them. The last thought was highly doubtful but Pansy had no choice but to try.

She approached the bed and bent over it.

"Potter," she called. No reaction.

"Hey Potter!" Pansy raised her voice. The body curled in a fetal position remained still.

She stepped closer to the bed and pushed him on the shoulder. Although the touch lasted only a moment, she noticed that his shoulder was hot. Very hot, actually.

Pansy frowned, forgetting about her anti-grimacing rules. It was not normal to be so hot, especially in an ice-cold premise. And it was not normal for a sleeping person not to respond to shouting and pushing.

What if Draco poisoned him before leaving? Yes, and then sent Pansy here to lay all the blame on her. Her imagination obligingly provided an image of a Daily Prophet issue with a photo of her being led away by grim-looking Aurors and a flaming headline The Hero of the Wizarding World Mercilessly Killed by a Jealous Ex-Bride. Inconsolable Widower Points at the Murderess!

Pansy shuddered. No, Draco would never bring any harm to his precious Potter. She bent over the lying figure and touched his forehead. Scalding hot. Now Pansy felt really worried. Potter was definitely ill. It seemed that he had a fever. No wonder if the stupid idiot fell asleep with open windows when winter was coming.

But what should she do? She entertained the idea of simply walking out of here, but the idea of Draco Malfoy's wrath in case if Potter did not make it on his own was not very appealing.

Still, what was she to do? Hooting in the corner attracted her attention. Pansy turned her head and saw a large white owl in a cage. She had seen it at Hogwarts many times in the last two school years, delivering notes to Draco several times every day. it was Potter's owl. What did Draco call it? Hannah? Helga? She went to the cage and noticed a small silver plate on it. Hedwig.

Pansy looked around in search of a piece of paper and saw a little glistening card on the floor. This would do. Sparkles would undoubtedly catch Draco's attention. She drew an Every-Surface Quill from her purse and hastily scribbled a few words.

Then Pansy approached the owl. The bird ruffled its feathers and snapped its beak in quite a hostile manner. Apparently Gryffindor owls held the same dislike of Slytherins as their masters.

After several unsuccessful attempts to attach the card without receiving a vicious bite, Pansy was beginning to lose her patience.

"Listen you!" Pansy hissed. "This is your master lying there, unconscious. I want to call for help. You are going to take this message and deliver it to Malfoy as soon as possible. And if you don't hurry up, I swear I will pluck all your feathers and then break your neck! Now let me fasten the letter to your bloody leg, or you will be very sorry!"

The speech had the desired effect. A minute later an indignant, yet obviously shaken bird was flying out of the window Pansy half-opened for it. Only fifteen minutes in Gryffindor's company, and she already resorted to threatening birds! Oh, Draco was so going to pay for this…

Reluctantly she returned to the bed and with a sigh covered Potter with a blanket. Pansy hoped that she would not have to play a loving mum's role for too long.

Two hours later, she was dozing in an armchair, when a movement in the corner of her eye caught her attention. Pansy whirled around. A tall figure draped in a dark cloak emerged from the living room.

"Oh, finally! I've been waiting for ages!" Pansy exclaimed and stopped abruptly.

'I assume this is some kind of emergency since you found it necessary to call me. Where is my son? And why are the wards down?" The newcomer demanded.

"M-mr Malfoy," Pansy stammered. "I did not expect you, I am sorry."

"What do you mean, you did not expect me? You sent me a message!" Lucius Malfoy stepped forward holding a folded parchment in his hand.

"I suppose there is a mistake. The letter was meant for Draco." She mumbled. "Stupid owl. I told it to give it the message to Malfoy!"

"In case you forgot, my dear Pansy, I also happen to wear this name. I guess your order confused the bird, and it delivered the message to the elder Malfoy available. Besides, this was an invitation card I sent to Draco and Harold. I suppose, Hedwig decided that this was a reply to my invitation." Lucius brought Pansy's note to his eyes and read aloud. "Malfoy, get to the Chelsea apartment now! It is urgent. Pansy."

Pansy was beginning to feel very stupid. It often happened to her in the presence of Lucius Malfoy. She recollected something about owls delivering urgent correspondence to the elder family members if the address was confusing. Obviously Potter's owl chose the route it knew best – to the head of Malfoy family. But it was a stupid mistake on her part, nevertheless, to send the owl without specifying the recipient.

"Short and to the point. Brevity is a rare talent nowadays," Lucius Malfoy remarked sarcastically.

She silently thanked heaven for not adding something like "you asshole" to the message. On the other hand, maybe it would help Mr Malfoy realize that the note was addressed to his son? She looked at the smirking blond man in front of her. Maybe not. With such an attitude, he was probably used to comments of this sort.

By the time Pansy gathered the remnants of her will to deal with Lucius Malfoy, the said person was standing by the bed and watching the boy on it with undisguised curiosity. "What is going here, Pansy? Did you hex him? I am afraid my son won't be very pleased with your short temper."

Pansy gritted her teeth and counted to ten, instead of replying that if she hexed anyone that day, it would be someone bearing the name of Malfoy.

"I think he is ill. They had an argument, and Draco asked me to come here and pick his things. When I arrived, he was like that." Pansy nodded at the still figure.

Lucius pulled out his wand and pointed it at the unconscious young man lying prone on the bed. He whispered an incantation and the tip of his wand glowed a faint blue light. The light then proceeded to change color to yellow and to dark green. Pansy watched for a few moments, fascinated but uncomprehending. After several minutes she grew tired of the process that Lucius Malfoy seemed to be quite taken with. She never was good with medical charms, anyway.

Finally the light went out, and Lucius hid his wand. The girl wanted to ask about the result of his inspection but she spent too much time around Draco Malfoy to hope for an answer. Malfoys were not sharing information for free. She tried an indirect approach.

"Is it anything serious?" she attempted at last.

Lucius Malfoy seemed to be absorbed in thoughts, and was startled by her voice. "Serious? Yes, quite serious, I would say."

Pansy frowned, already resigned to the idea of having a face like a baked apple. She definitely did not want Potter dead on her hands. "Shall I call a mediwizard, then?"

Lucius smiled strangely. "No, it is too early for that. Don't worry."

Pansy came to a decision that it was time for her to explode. After all, it was her neck at risk here, not Lucius'. If Draco found out that Potter is in danger, and she did not do anything, he would skin her alive. She took a deep breath collecting air in her lungs for a heartfelt tirade about their responsibility to deliver an ill person to the hospital, but a voice from behind stopped her.

"What is taking you so long, Pansy? Is it really that hard to grab a couple of robes from the cupboard?" Draco demanded angrily. A pause, and his eyes opened wide. "…Father?!"

"Draco," Lucius greeted.

"What are you doing here? Is something wrong?" Draco's gaze shifted from Lucius and Pansy to the unmoving figure on the bed, and for the first time in eleven years that Pansy knew Draco Malfoy she read fear in his eyes. She had seen worry, surprise, indignation, confusion, anger there, but never fear.

A second later Lucius and Pansy were forgotten, as Draco rushed to the bed. "Harry?! Harry, what's wrong?"

Lucius touched his son on the shoulder, evidently in order to remind him of inappropriateness of such behavior in the presence of "outsiders" (yes, Pansy was quite familiar with the code of Malfoys, thank you very much), and Draco immediately straightened letting his hands drop from Harry's shoulders.

The next words of Lucius were addressed to Pansy.

"My dear girl, allow me to express the deepest gratitude from my son and me for alerting us so quickly. I do not dare to keep you here any longer. Wish you all of luck, and please visit us at Malfoy Manor soon. Narcissa would be delighted to enjoy your company during a cup of tea, she said that herself." With that, Lucius gracefully bowed and kissed Pansy's hand.

Pansy was itching to ask how could Lucius have invitation from his wife for her, if he had not even known that he would meet Pansy here. But it was better to accept his words at face value than to acknowledge that she realized she was being banished from the apartment. Pansy left with a polite response and growing curiosity about the nature of Potter's illness. Oh, doesn't matter, she will extort this information from Draco when she sees him again.

Both father and son did not utter another word until the sound of Pansy's heels faded and a click signified that the entrance door was closed behind her.

Draco turned to his father and stared at him questioningly.

"So, Draco, I suppose congratulations are in order. I have to admit, I did not expect you two would take this family thing so much further. Still, you should know better than to leave him in this condition. It is evident that this fever is a result of the spell and nervous breakdown. I applied a couple of fever-breaking charms, but please be more careful in future. Harold is very vulnerable right now."

Draco tilted his head a little. "What do you mean by that?"

Lucius studied the young man for a moment and then chuckled. "Don't tell me... You don't know, do you? You have no idea that you got our dear Harold…" He burst out laughing openly.

"I got him what? What are you talking about?" Draco was beginning to feel annoyed. After all, this was his husband. He was supposed to know more about Harry than his father.

Lucius stopped laughing, although a smile remained tugging on the corners of his mouth. "Pregnant, Draco. You got him pregnant."

"WHAT?!"

"I assumed you were aware of Harold's condition. But it seems that you weren't…" Lucius stared expectantly at his stunned son.

"But it is impossible, he is not, he, he… He is a guy!" was all that Draco could stutter.

"Of course, it could not happen on its own. He is working in Snape's Laboratories, isn't he? I will make an educated guess that this is a result of some old spell. It is strange that you know nothing of it, though."

Draco bit his lower lip. "We… we had some issues to work through, I-I…"

"Quite enough," Lucius raised his hand. "Please refrain from involving me into your personal relationships. This is something for you to deal on your own. I will give you only one advice. Don't be too harsh. I heard that there had been an argument; actually the purple color of your face and your snappish mood made it obvious for all the guests at the reception. It is sad for me to witness how you are forgetting everything I taught you of self-control, both in private and in public."

Draco nodded. "I apologize, Father, I'll try to do better now. I just did not expect…" He did not finish.

"Well, this is Harry Potter. Always one for surprises," Lucius smirked. In a more serious tone, he added: "Perhaps you should re-consider the question of your habitation. London, particularly its Muggle part, is not the best place for a pregnant male. Undoubtedly the spell that he used will have other similar side effects. Harold will requite constant observation and attention. Just remember that you are always welcome at home."

Lucius turned away, indicating that the conversation was over. Before disapparating, he threw over his shoulder: "And don't forget to restore the wards, Draco. Unless you want any other visitors today."

Draco followed the advice immediately. His strongest wish was to take care of Harry at the moment, but he wanted to ensure that they were alone first.

When this task was finished, he cautiously approached the bed and inspected his partner. Even though his breathing was not so heavy as it seemed upon Draco's arrival and the pulse stabilized, Harry did not look very well. Draco removed his clothes, cleaned his body and covered him with a blanket again.

Harry groaned and stirred. Draco expected him to wake up but the young man just continued fidgeting incessantly, without opening his eyes. It looked that Harry was looking for something, even in his sleep, and Draco had a fairly good idea what he needed.

Letting out a sigh, Draco removed his own clothes and got under the blanket. He reached to Harry and drew him closer. Stirring ceased and the warm body wrapped itself up about Draco.

Draco smiled. It felt… right. These two days of his absence were not very good, as if he was missing something. Now the uncomfortable feeling was gone.

They were lying like that for a while, Harry on top, his head on Draco's chest, Draco's fingers absent-mindedly playing with Harry's hair. Then rhythm of Harry's breathing changed, and Draco knew he was waking. The black-haired head raised a couple of inches and green eyes, sleepy yet striving to open wide, stared at him.

"Draco?! You-you are back!" Not waiting for a response, Harry rushed ahead. 'There's so much I wanted to tell you. I am sorry about the party – I will apologize to Mr Malfoy – and I will try to spend more time at home – it is only that project in the Laboratories –"

"I think I know what project you are talking about," Draco interrupted him softly.

"You do?" Harry looked surprised. "But how? I mean I was going to tell you, but you were so upset, and I just…." A hand slid down from his hair and closed his mouth.

"You were very ill. My father came here and found you unconscious. He ran a couple of spells to understand what was wrong with you, and… well…" Draco's arm that was until now coiled around Harry's waist, slid between their bodies and pressed gently on the brunette's belly.

Harry beamed with happiness, then blushed. "So it worked? I am pregnant?! We will have a…" He did not finish his sentence realizing apparently that he did not see Draco's reaction yet.

"Are you OK with it?" He inquired cautiously and continued hurriedly. "See, we were testing this spell, and I volunteered. But everyone thought it was not going to work, so I did not tell you anything. I realize I should have discussed this with you first…" Draco's hand clamped his mouth shut again.

"Harry, breathe," Harry took a deep breath through his nose, following the instruction. "Good. Now listen to me. No, I am not angry with you. And I am happy if we are going to have a child. You have yet to tell me how is this gong to work, but since I won't be the one to give birth, the idea seems very nice to me." Draco grinned showing that it was a joke. "I think we both have something to apologize for. I was too harsh with you, never giving you a chance to explain. Maybe this argument was a lesson that will teach us to listen to each other more in future. Let's just leave it for now. Alright?"

Harry began to relax, but suddenly jerked his head up again. "The project! I must report to Snape about the results, I must let him know it worked!"

"Harry, are you out of your mind?"

"It won't take long, just a trip to the Laboratories and back!"

"Harry, look at me," Draco interfered, tightening his hold on Harry. "Do you seriously think that I will let you leave the bed in the next 24 hours?"

Harry paused, looking into grey eyes and seeing an image of Madam Pomfrey. He sighed and shook his head. "No."

"Good. Then calm down. And if Snape appears here, I will personally kick him downstairs."

Harry nodded and laid his head back. Draco resumed playing with his hair.

It did not take long for the radius of his hand's movement to expand, first to Harry's neck and then to his back. Gradually Draco decided that this activity required involvement of both hands, and quite soon he got completely engrossed in Harry-stroking process. And, judging by eager reaction from the body on top of him, this activity met absolute approval of the recipient.

Later they were lying side by side, tired but very pleased.

"Father suggested for us to move back. He thinks that London won't be very suitable for you."

"I… suppose he is right. So, you want to go back to Malfoy Manor?"

"I am not sure… what would you like to do?"

"I, well… yes, I think I'd like to."

"Then it is settled. I will send Father an owl and ask to prepare rooms for us."

"Yeah, it would be good to come back home."

**

The End

**


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